The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(76)

“I don’t.”

That was something, but it wasn’t enough. Like marching down the field but being short of the end zone by inches.

“I need you to say the words because I’m scared. Because I don’t even know where to start. Show me where to start. Show me how to do this.”

“You’re not the only one who’s scared, Cal. This is risky for me too.”

“I get that.” I swallowed hard. “Tell me what you don’t hate about me.”

Her eyes softened. “I love that you have a big heart hidden in that massive chest, even though you keep it a secret. I love that you love Pierce and his family. I love that you fight with me and you fight to win.”

“More.” I needed her to keep saying that one four-letter word.

“I love that you did things to protect me that I didn’t understand at the time. Like that day with your dad.”

And the day I’d thrown water on her. There were endless examples that I’d explain if she gave me the chance.

“I didn’t know it would spiral,” I said. “I didn’t know he’d ruin your dad’s business. For that, I’m sorry.”

“I think when my dad learns the truth, he’ll agree that you did the right thing.”

“He’s still my father.” I sighed. “I’ve done my best, but there’s no erasing the bastard.”

“Lucky for you, he lives in Colorado, not Montana.”

“Do I live in Montana?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Guess that’s up to you.”

“No, it’s up to you.”

“Then I say you live in Montana.”

The air rushed from my lungs. “Thank fuck.”

“But we can’t keep doing this to each other. The secrets. The pretending we don’t care. We have to stop hiding from each other. Cal, I lo—”

“Shut up.” I pressed a finger to her lips.

That earned me a frown.

“I changed my mind. I want to say it first.”

“Of course you do,” she muttered when I dropped my finger.

I leaned in close. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I’d had a lot of victories in my life. This one? By far the sweetest. “Tell me you love me.”

“What?” She leaned away. “I just did. Were you not listening to me? Seriously?”

“I heard you.” I grinned. “Do it again.”

She cupped my face. “I love you.”

The words had barely escaped before I sealed my mouth over hers, sweeping inside for some of that sugar.

Nellie clung to my shoulders, kissing me until we were both breathless. Then I swept her up off the ground, spinning her in my arms.

“Fuck, but I love you, woman.”

Nellie wrapped her legs around my waist, her fingers threading through the hair at my temples.

A bank of lights on the school’s second floor shut off. They were closing up, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire building was dark.

“We’d better get out of here,” Nellie said. “We could fly home tomorrow.”

“Can’t yet.”

“Why? Did you have plans with your mom?”

“No. Now we have to spend the weekend fucking in a hotel.” We’d do Charlotte and all the other hookups again, but this time, we’d do them better.

She rolled her eyes. “Cal Stark, you are such a romantic.”

I brushed my mouth to hers. “If you want romance, I’ll show you romance.”

“Nah.” She smiled against my lips. “Tell me more about this hotel room.”





EPILOGUE





NELLIE





Three years later . . .

“Cal’s, um, a little extreme.” Mom tried to hide her eye roll, but she failed. “He realizes this is T-ball, right?”

“He just gets excited for the kids.” And this was an improvement over the last three weekends, not something I’d admit to my parents. When it came to my husband, they were overly critical, so I’d learned to be careful about what I shared.

Mom and Dad, each seated in a camp chair beside mine, shared a look.

“Let’s go. Let’s go.” Cal clapped his hands as the kids on our team raced out of the dugout with their gloves in hand. “Be ready, boys. Three up. Three down.”

“Oh, my.” Dad pinched the bridge of his nose.

I blew out a soothing breath, hoping some calming vibes would carry across the baseball diamond to my husband who paced along the baseline.

I’d carefully mentioned to Cal last week that too much pressure on these kids might dull the fun. It had instantly sobered the seriousness, and he’d backed off substantially today.

But even a quiet Cal was intense when it came to sports.

He might be taking his role as coach a bit seriously, but he was living for Tuesday night T-ball practices and Saturday afternoon games. So I’d kept my commentary on his intensity to myself.

Besides, the parents on the team didn’t seem to mind that Cal showed up with black under-eye paint before each game and insisted the kindergarteners do laps around the bases before a set of pushups.